"Neither Do I Condemn Thee..."

“Why would I leave the God I love to come to a place like this?”

I was always nervous to the teach the Plan of Salvation to investigators on the mission. I felt like there was something about it I was missing. There seemed to be too much information mashed together that I was never going to be able to explain simply, rationally, or even truthfully. I wasn’t even sure how to begin telling someone without a Christian background about the significance of Eve and Adam eating a piece of fruit.

So, my investigator’s question burned a little whole in my conscious. Not only was I unsure how to answer his question, I felt like it somehow summarized everything going on in my head – my own questions and concerns. His life hadn’t been easy. Milton not only struggled with addiction, his wife had left him and took their child. From what I gleaned from his mother, it didn’t seem like any other religion or method they had tried before was able to him break his extreme alcoholism. And he wasn’t oblivious to all this. In the small living room of his mother’s house where we always taught him, I realized I was sitting across from a very broken man. He was depressed. A part of me understood that.

My mission hadn’t been easy. My Grandma has passed away, my Dad had been hospitalized from a heart attack, my trainer had nearly died as she also faced some health issues. I had been experiencing some level of PTSD, including nightmares. About mid-way through my mission, I had finally received my VISA and been sent to Brazil, where I didn’t remember any of the language. My first companion blamed me for her own depression and berated me about it for hours. I had, at one point, thought about ending it all.

In both cases, I think Milton and I felt like failures. He understood his pain as self-inflicted and therefore felt unworthy of redemption. I think I was still unsure how to process mine. I had been blessed with just enough good companions and just enough spiritual experiences to know that the answer to our question was embedded in the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I knew I was still functioning because of the Savior, but it wasn’t until the moment of his question that I began to really start putting the pieces of mortality together. He was asking the very question I hadn’t understood how to teach.

If we were happy with God in the preexistence, why would we choose to go somewhere where we could mess things up, damn ourselves, and fail pathetically? Why would we choose a destiny that seemed inherently poised to disappoint the Being we loved beyond measure? The simple answer people gave was that we wanted bodies and experiences, but when I looked at Milton’s life – I understood why that seemed like a pretty poor reason to leave the presence of God and potentially ruin our lives on Earth.

At least, I think that’s how many of my investigators felt. I found more and more that I needed to better understand the actual meaning, significance and power of the Atonement of Christ. Knowing the Savior can forgive sins didn’t explain to them why we gambled on our willingness to make the right decisions in the first place. Seeing salvation and damnation as a sort of dichotomous result of individual agency led any thoughtful person to one obvious truth – we’re all going to fail. So, why would we choose to come here anyway!? Is mortality worth it if we know we’re not good enough to do the right thing?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that along with getting physical bodies and gaining experience, any plan where spirits became mortals inherently included pain, failure, and sin as part of the actual plan. Our Heavenly Parents knew we were going to fail miserably to “keep our first estate.” In that mindset, perhaps the Council in Heaven was more about how to turn weaknesses into strength. To make sure that our natural mistakes and tendency to sin wouldn’t impede our progression.  

In that mindset, the plan presented in the preexistence naturally centered around a Savior and must have revolved around a central commitment from us – a willingness to repent, change, and constantly turn to Christ. It was, in short, a plan of repentance. That’s what we all agreed to do.

This may seem obvious. So, why did it matter so much to me?

Over time, I have slowly redefined my understanding of the words sin and repentance. Firstly, there is no shame in repentance. It is a symbol of our fidelity to that first commitment we made in the pre-existence; namely, that we agreed to a plan in which we would regularly repent. If we are repenting – well done! That's the plan! Secondly, I think sometimes – and I hope this isn’t misunderstood – that we see sin too definitively. As if the word itself implies instant damnation. On the contrary, I think the only real, damning sin comes when we stop repenting and stop turning to Christ. The many sins that we feel sorrow for, seek to change and repent of, are perhaps less indicators of a “sinner,” than of a mortal seeking to become a “saint through the Atonement of Jesus Christ” [Mosiah 3:19].

We often seem inclined in life to associate action with identity. Thus, the label “sinner” is reasonably applied to someone who “sins.” Since we all sin, some have pointed out that we are all sinners. Yet, the scripture only asserts that “all have sinned.” Not that it is their identity, but rather a statement of fact. And it is followed by this qualifier, that such who sin may be “justified freely by his grace through the redemption of Christ” [John 3:23-24]. In the logic of redemption, one who sins may also be one who repents, one who is saved, and ultimately, one who becomes like God. That’s frankly incredible. Consider the following scriptural example:

"He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." This response from the Savior to those Pharisees seeking overt condemnation of a woman “taken in adultery” led those who heard to be “convicted by their own conscience,” and they left the scene. Obviously, in this situation, the Savior was not implying that everyone within the sound of his voice was a "sinner," by which we mean worthy of condemnation. On the contrary, he tells the woman he also does not condemn her and exhorts her to "sin no more” [John 8: 3-11].

In this example, it seems that the Savior perfectly delineated the difference between one who sins (everyone) vs one who is a sinner – by which we mean one who refuses to repent. His conclusion was not one of condemnation, but an invitation to change, regardless of previous action. It might be worth noting that his harshest language, after all, seemed directed more at the scribes and Pharisees and less at the publicans and so-called “sinners” of the time, many of whom accepted Christ and turned from their sins.

The official name of our Church highlights this reality even more: We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Notice the last word. Saints. Many are quick to note how members of the church are not perfect, and that is true. But somehow, again in divine reasoning, this propensity, tendency, and almost inevitability of sin never disqualified one from being considered a “Saint.” This, of course, is because our membership is bound to covenants by which we continually and constantly repent, turn to Christ, and seek His redemptive and enabling influence in our lives.

What this means is that no matter how far we feel like we’ve fallen, no matter how long it’s been since we’ve read our scriptures or gone to Church, no matter how many blessings we feel we may have missed in the meantime, the moment we turn to Christ and seek to change is the moment we are back on the path! And that, I think, is pleasing to God. Really, He just wants us to stick to the plan! Repent, change, don’t worry about the number of times you’ve failed, just keep going. Don’t get distracted. Don’t miss the mark – which is Christ. If we keep going, we can’t really fail, no matter how many mistakes we make.

I remember one particular day on my mission talking to an investigator who struggled with various addictions. She would cycle in and out of managing them, but never enough to get baptized. However, she loved and truly believed in the restored gospel (she would even pay tithing, which considering the paycheck I once saw, was incredible). One day, she was so discouraged that she just sat down on the ground in the kitchen and told us that she was a hopeless case. When we got a little deeper into the discussion, she admitted that she was pretty certain she wasn’t good enough to be loved or redeemed. If I remember right, she talked as if God would be ashamed or embarrassed by her.

Again, while this may seem like an obvious falsehood to many, I feel a personal connection to that feeling. It’s relatable to me. Just like Milton, just like this investigator, and just like me, it can be hard to see outside the scope of our own failures. In response to Christ’s directive, “He who is without sin…” we may actually wonder if we should be throwing stones at ourselves. But I’ve realized that the divine plan we agreed to in the preexistence never did expect us to be without sin. There was one chosen for that. What it did expect was for us to accept Christ’s foreordained role and stick to that previously agreed upon plan of repentance and faith.  

Milton’s question: Why did I leave the God I love to come to a place like this? could probably be answered in multiple, logically sound ways. But the burning questions lingering behind it?

Why and I so imperfect? Why am I never enough? Why would I agree to plan that would take me away from God?

These may need to be addressed differently. From my perspective, we are imperfect because everyone trying to go from mortal to Godhood must learn a thing or two about agency and consequences, better and best, truth and error, love and hate, and life. But it is not a weakness to be weak. It is not a sin to be imperfect. It is a fact. And it can change. With Christ, we are all enough. The plan we agreed to was a plan of repentance, redemption, and change – not just as a way to wipe away the past, but as a means to build upon the lessons of our natural imperfections until – through Christ – they become the cornerstone of a new and better soul.

Our mortal existence is a journey. I don’t believe our Heavenly Parents are disappointed in the fact that journeys take time, include inconsistencies, and don’t always meet up to our personal expectations. What they do hope is that we will never lose sight of them in the process – because ultimately the only way to reach our destination is with their help and their redemption. We all need the Savior. We all need repentance. That was the plan, the original agreement. The whole point.

“Will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?” [3 Nephi 9:13]

A plea from the Savior, this scriptural declaration is not one of anger or shame. Instead, to me, it is an eager invitation. A reminder of our purpose. A hopeful call for all to come and freely be healed. That, I think, is all the Savior wants us to do. If Milton had known that, if I had been able to explain it, I wonder if he would have found the strength to keep going. Because the Lord had never left him, and I dare to say I don’t think he was ashamed of him either. For all who love and desire to turn to God, I think he sees only our potential. And for all who have ever lived, he sees us only through eyes of love.